


A Short Engagement

by gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, Engagement, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:45:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Phryne encounters an old flame at a Christmas party, Jack has to play the part of her fiancé.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Short Engagement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stef84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stef84/gifts).



> For the prompt “Dance with me?” (Phryne/Jack) Requested by sheldonslog. 
> 
> This was originally going to be part of "You Asked For It", but then it got long. Merry Christmas! ♥

“Oh no,” Phryne murmured, as she eased her way into Lady Morley’s Christmas party with Jack on her arm. “Oh hell no…”

“What is it?” Jack asked, dropped his voice and turning slightly towards her. To anyone watching, it would have been the action of an adoring and devoted escort. To Phryne, it was a welcome tactic to block her from view of anyone in front of them. “You sound horrified.”

“Dismayed, certainly. See the lanky fellow by the punchbowl?”

Jack glanced over his shoulder. “Tall, blond, elegant, sapphire cufflinks?”

“The one who looks far too sleek and pressed, yes, him. Damn! If I’d known he’d be here I wouldn’t have come.”

Jack steered her to a table and signaled to a waiter. “What, after you went to all the trouble of roping me into being your escort? And to a party you didn’t want to come to in the first place, but decided to anyway because… why, again?”

“Because Lady Morley’s a friend of my mother’s,” Phryne replied, somewhat bitterly, gulping down the champagne that the waiter brought, “and Mother’s got more than enough to deal with back in England without receiving an angry letter in mid-January about how I was rude to one of her oldest friends.”

“That’s right. And the sleek gentleman?”

“A former and highly-regretted fling. He’s proposed marriage no less than six times.”

“Good God! How long have you known him?”

“Christmas nineteen-twenty-seven.”

“Ah, so you came to Australia to escape him and find other conquests.”

“Jack Robinson, I swear, I will—oh damn, he’s coming this way!” She covered her face in her hands for a split second and then emerged with a perfectly cool and composed face. “Daniel, darling, what a surprise to see you here!”

“Phryne, Phryne, you beautiful hard-hearted goddess!” The sleek gentleman bent over Phryne’s hand and pressed a fervent kiss to your knuckles. “I tried so desperately to see you whilst you were in London!”

“I know,” Phryne said, gritting her teeth behind her smile. “But I was desperate to get out of London.”

“But why, lissome enchantress, why? When I was there, waiting for you?”

Jack rolled his eyes so hard, they nearly rolled out of his head. 

Phryne’s smile became positively regal. “Because, Daniel dear, I had better things waiting here for me. Jack, this is Daniel Hatcher-Morton, of the Lancashire Mortons.”

“Sir,” said Jack neutrally, giving Daniel precisely as much courtesy as he was being paid, which was to say, none.

“Daniel, this is Detective-Inspector Jack Robinson, of the Victoria Police Force.”

“Charmed,” said Daniel absently, his eyes riveted on Phryne and his free hand snapping his fingers at a waiter and gesturing for another chair to be brought. 

“Jack is my fiancé.”

Jack rolled his eyes again, but internally this time. The gobsmacked look on Daniel Hatcher-Morton’s face was too good to spoil with his derisive snort. “Phryne, I… you…”

“So nice to have met you, Mr. Morton,” Jack interrupted, in his blandest voice, “but if you’ll excuse us, I should like to dance with my intended bride.”

“I owe you _eternally_ for that,” Phryne muttered into his shoulder, as he steered her safely round the dance floor. 

“I should say you do.”

“…I hope you don’t think I’m going to marry you,” she joked, her eyes fluttering in mock flirtation, “for getting me out of an awkward social interaction.”

“Of course not. I’ll settle for you letting me be attentive and adoring for the rest of the evening.” Phryne looked up, rather surprised, and saw something softer hiding behind Jack’s teasing blue eyes. 

“I think I could cope with that,” she replied, with a small, very satisfied smile. 

And so she did, through the dancing and the supper and the enforced caroling, and all the time Jack played the part of the proud and besotted intended, keeping her close when required and relinquishing her to other partners as she signaled. Phryne made sure, though, to save the final dance of the evening for him, as his reward. 

“You’ve been very forbearing tonight,” she told him, as they slowly revolved round the floor one last time. “Especially when the gossips columns of every newspaper tomorrow are going to be bursting with the rumours of our ‘engagement’. And Lady Morley will surely be writing to my mother.”

Jack shrugged his broad shoulders almost carelessly. “It wouldn’t be the first time Melbourne society and the press have tried to link us romantically. It makes for good copy and conversation. And I know it always amuses you.”

“And you?” she asked, as he led her expertly to the end of their dance. “Does it amuse you?”

“Sometimes. And sometimes it just makes my life difficult. And sometimes...” Jack seemed to be searching for words, but finally he just pursed his lips, shrugged, and smiled. “The party’s over, Miss Fisher. I’ll get your coat.”

They drove back to Wardlow in companionable, thoughtful, champagne-tinged silence. Phryne let him drive the Hispano, since he’d had rather less to drink than she had, but for all the wine and dancing and the heat of the party, her mind was remarkably clear. “Come in for a nightcap?”

“Just the one,” Jack smiled. “I do have to work tomorrow.”

She unlocked the front door quietly, knowing Mr. Butler and Dot had already gone to bed. There would be sandwiches and cocoa in the kitchen for them, and she would let Jack know in just a moment, but first... “Thank you,” she said, quiet and sincere as they stepped into the hall and she closed the door behind them, “for playing the part of my fiancé tonight. Even if I’m afraid I do have to call off our understanding.”

“I think that might be the shortest engagement I’ve ever heard of,” said Jack dryly. 

“Oh, rot. It’s not even the shortest one I’ve had. I was engaged a number of times,” Phryne admitted, with a delicate shudder, “before the war. Thank God I never went through with any of them.”

Jack’s smile was lopsided. “And this one.”

Phryne smoothed a hand down the lapel of his tuxedo, then hooked her fingers round the cloth and pulled him down for a soft, slow kiss. “This one,” she said, very softy, “might be the only one I wouldn’t have minded following through with.”


End file.
